


Movie Marathon

by lady_wordsmith



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, B-Movies, Christmas Movies, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Reader-Insert, Romance, Scary Movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wordsmith/pseuds/lady_wordsmith
Summary: “I don’t get it. Horror movies on Christmas?”
  
  “Christmas-themed horror movies, Steve. It’s, like, the perfect juxtaposition or whatever.” You tell him, grabbing a handful of popcorn.
  
  “Do you even know what the word juxtaposition means, babe?”
  
  “It means I’m watching Christmas-themed horror movies, and if you watch them with me, we can cuddle and you can touch my butt.”
You introduce Steve to your yearly tradition of Christmas-themed horror movies. He doesn't quite get it, but you think he enjoys himself all the same.





	

“I don’t get it. Horror movies on Christmas?”

 “Christmas-themed horror movies, Steve. It’s, like, the perfect juxtaposition or whatever.” You tell him, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Do you even know what the word juxtaposition means, babe?”

“It means I’m watching Christmas-themed horror movies, and if you watch them with me, we can cuddle and you can touch my butt.”

Steve sits beside you, handing you a glass of eggnog. You take a sip and smile brightly at him, which makes him groan and look away in mock horror.

“I have no choice, do I?” he asks you.

You shake your head and gesture to the stack of DVDs on the coffee table. “As the newbie to my fine tradition, you get first pick.”

* * *

“I don’t get it. Why’s he killing them? Who’s Agnes?” Steve asks, taking a sip of eggnog.

“I don’t know, the movie never explains it. I mean, the remake does, but that one’s really lame.”

“Are we watching that one, too?”

The side-eye you give Steve actually makes him flinch.

“Steven Grant Rogers, don’t speak such sacrilege in my presence.” You inform him primly, downing the rest of your eggnog in one go and handing your glass to Steve, who promptly refills it.

“Fine, fine… Is it the girl’s boyfriend? Is he the killer? It makes sense, because she wants the abortion and he’s kind of mad about that-“

You roll your eyes. “Steve, you’ve seen horror movies before, you know the way this goes. It’s not him, he’s just a red herring. Shut up and watch the movie.”

“ _Fine_ …” Steve sighs, and you give him a light kick as you look at each other with matching grins.

“Thank you. Now pass the popcorn.”

Steve’s quiet until the end of the movie, but it’s clear he’s incensed by the ending.

“… What?! They’re just leaving her there like that, with only the one cop at the door and the killer is still there?” Steve scoffs, raising a hand and gesturing in righteous indignation.

“They don’t know that, Steve. They thought the boyfriend was the killer and she killed him in self-defense.”

“Haven’t these people ever seen a horror movie, babe?”

“Considering this is one of the first slasher horror movies, no, no they haven’t.” You say, taking another sip of eggnog to hide your obvious grin.

“And that’s where it ends? Damn it!”

“Language, Steve!”

“… I regret ever letting Tony tell you that.”

* * *

“… Krampus.” Steve looks confused at your pick.

“Yes, Steve.”

“They made a horror movie about Krampus.”

“It’s kind of fitting.”

“He just punishes naughty children in Germany at _Krampusnacht_.”

“He also looks like a demon, Steve!”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you.

“… Judging you right now.”

“Besides, doesn’t he also whip them and occasionally drown them, drag them off to Hell, stuff like that?” you ask, which makes Steve roll his eyes at you.

“…Play the movie.”

“Alright, but every time you say some variation on ‘this is wrong’ I’m swatting you with the wrapping paper roll.” You inform him, rising from the couch and returning with the lone remaining roll of wrapping paper.

Steve obviously forgets this very quickly.

“He’s not the shadow of Saint Nicholas; he’s a completely separate entity. Ow!”

“That’s one, Steve.” You inform him, raising a finger and smirking.

“Okay, okay… “

He remains quiet for a while, but when the grandmother is explaining about her previous encounter with Krampus, you notice he clearly rolls his eyes when she explains about the bauble Krampus had left behind.

“Any objections?” You ask. Steve looks over at you.

“You can tell?” He asks.

“You’re practically bursting at the seams, Rogers.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Tell me.”

“Do I get a reprieve from the wrapping paper roll?” He smiles at you, which you return.

“Just this once.”

“It’s supposed to be coal, or a bundle of birch branches called _ruten_.”

“Interesting. Those are what he whips children with, right?”

“Right.”

“Hmm… How do you know all this, anyway?” Steve gives you an incredulous look, and you realize, rather dumbly, that asking a man who lived among immigrants that included Germans and who later went to Germany to fight in a war how he knows about Germanic folklore is kind of ridiculous.

“Judging you again, babe.” He informs you as he reaches for some popcorn.

“Yeah, I realize I walked into that one.”

“A little bit.”

The two of you are quietly munching on popcorn when the character of Der Clown pops up, and in spite of the fact you’ve seen this movie before, you jump slightly and cling to Steve.

“…Ah! Stupid fucking jack-in-the-box clown.” You mutter.

“What’s with the jack-in-the-box?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s just because clowns are freaky.”

“It _is_ creepy.” Steve agrees.

You watch him as he reaches up and grabs a blanket draped over the back of the couch and covers you with it.

“Why are you covering me with a blanket?” You ask.

“To give you plausible deniability the next time you’re scared. Now you can just grab onto me because you’re cold.”

“I’ve seen these movies a billion times, Rogers, they don’t scare me… Thanks, though.”

“Of course, babe.”

* * *

“For the record, if for some reason either one of us is offered a mansion for an insanely low price, it’s obviously haunted or filled with lunatics and we should say no.” Steve tells you.

“Aw, you’re learning.” You say, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“Did you seriously just pinch my cheek?”

“Oh, hush, Mr. ‘Christmas horror movies make no sense.’”

Toward the end of the movie, Steve turns to you.

“None of these people are sympathetic. I am perfectly okay with all them dying in a house collapse if that were to happen.” He tells you.

“Adulterers, murderously crazy mental patients, incestuous douchebags… Yeah, I agree.” You say.

“What I don’t get is why kill the lawyer at the beginning?”

“Well, the old guy wanted revenge for the asylum inmates killing his daughter-”

“Who he had an incestuous relationship with.”

“Yeah.”

“But he’s responsible for that. He drove his daughter crazy and turned their home into a mental asylum. It’s all _his_ fault.”

“Don’t think too deeply on this, Steve.”

* * *

“Paging Dr. Freud.” You mutter at the next movie’s opening scene.

“Really? His parents just… right in the living room? I’m not a parent, but that seems like a dumb idea.” Steve says.

“I’m more disturbed by the fact his father didn’t remove the Santa suit, to be honest.”

“Scarred for life?”

“Scarred for life.” You and Steve high-five in agreement.

Steve mutters some mild complaints about the movie’s pacing (“This is dumb and I want people to start dying already. Someone, anyone. Starting with the writers.”), while you join in on the sheer stupidity of the main villain working in a toy factory (“Oh, wow, guy with a Santa complex works in a toy factory, who would have thought?”), but the two of you remain mostly quiet until the villain gets into his Santa suit and the action starts.

“… I mean, babe, I get it, I really do. Life gave this guy a bum hand. But killing people in front of a church and then attending a Christmas party in his Santa suit?” Steve asks.

“I fail to see the problem, Steve.” You say. “Are you objections religious or what?”

“The basis of tact, mainly; killing someone in front of a church just seems thoughtless. That and the fact that this movie’s giving me whiplash.”

“Yeah, watching a movie go from stabby to happy and back to stabby will do that to you.”

Steve nods and settles back down, only to stare wide-eyed at the TV screen during the bewildering ending.

“Okay, so… Let me see if I have this right.” Steve says to you.

You sit up and nod. “Sure.”

“His van breaks down, in a neighborhood filled with so many Christmas lights I’m sure safety regulations are being violated, not to mention causing one hell of a power bill.” Steve says.

“Yeah.” You say, munching on popcorn and grinning at Steve’s adorable expression of bewilderment.

“The parents in the neighborhood see him and confront him, because his exploits have made the news and he’s too dumb to get out of his Santa suit that the news and the cops have warned about.”

“Yep.”

“The kids in the neighborhood try to protect this guy, because they’re too young to know he’s a murderer and not really Santa.”

“I like to think it’s because they possess a special kind of stupid, but sure.”

“So the adults… I can’t believe I’m saying this with all seriousness… form a torch bearing mob.”

“You sound bewildered, Steve.”

Steve gives you a playful glare. “Babe, mobs bearing torches was starting to get silly even in my time. When was this movie made?”

“The eighties.”

“By then, it was ridiculous.”

“He gets away, though.”

“And goes to his brother’s who realizes ‘hey, my crazy, anti-social brother is a spree killer,’ and then almost beats him to death in an attempt to stop him, while his brother’s still in the Santa suit and his own kids are watching.”

“Still not seeing a problem, Steve.”

“So, Crazy Santa gets away in his van, _again_ , despite being beaten half to hell, and stupidly drives into the direction of the torch bearing mob, who run him off a bridge. Only… His car starts flying into the air and Christmas music plays.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s where the movie ends?”

“Uh huh.”

“It makes no sense. He should be dead. The torch bearing mob is dumb, and instead of, I don’t know, tying him down after he almost beats Killer Santa to death, the brother shoves him in the van, which allows Killer Santa to get away and almost, but not quite, meet his end at the hands of a lynch mob.”

“Bearing torches.” You say, reaching over to rest your head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve kisses your forehead. “You’re lucky I love you enough to willingly subject myself to this stupidity.”

“So are we making this a yearly tradition?” you ask.

Steve laughs and nods. “We may have to invite over the others. I imagine some of them might enjoy these kinds of movies.”

“And those who don’t, you want to make suffer?” you ask.

Steve looks thoughtful for a moment before giving a solemn nod.

“Then may I make a suggestion?” you ask.

Steve nods and motions for you to continue.

“If we do this next year, we invite Bucky. There’s this movie involving elves and Nazis I want the two of you to see.” You say.

Steve looks at you skeptically.

“Elves and Nazis?” he asks in disbelief.

You grin and give Steve a kiss.

“Next year’s going to be fun.” You declare.

**Author's Note:**

> These movies are actual movies themed around Christmas horror, not always succeeding. They are, in order: _Black Christmas_ (1974 version, though the remake from 2006 is mentioned), _Krampus_ (2015), _Silent Night, Bloody Night_ (1972, Also released as _Death House_ and _Night of the Dark Full Moon_ and not to be confused with _Silent Night, Deadly Night_ ), and _Christmas Evil_ (1980, also known as _You Better Watch Out_ and _Terror in Toyland_ ). The film mentioned, but not seen, at the end, is _Elves_ (1989), which yes, does involve elves and Nazis.


End file.
